


five of six

by atlas_oulast



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_oulast/pseuds/atlas_oulast





	five of six

Kathrine didn’t remember much after the part where she bent down on the block. 

Her throat was hoarse from screaming, and now she was silent, quiet, daring not to cry, as she felt the pressure of the block on her neck, and the jeers of the onlookers. They were ready to see another queen executed, another queen disgraced in history.

She saw the executioner, in his black robes, chain mail, and saw his eyes glinting under his hood.

And then nothing.

And then she was in a new world, with four other girls. Four other wives.

Cathrine of Aragon.

Anne Boleyn.

Jane Seymour.

Anne of Cleves.

And now her. Kathrine Howard, disgraced wife of King Henry the Eighth, along with all other disgraced wives. Except for Jane, and to some extent Anne of Cleves.

Anne Boleyn had smiled at her when she’d appeared, and Cathrine had given her a blanket to wrap around herself. She was dressed in nun’s robes, and she was smiling.

”Hello, Kathrine. Once Cathrine Parr comes, we’ll be ready. Rest up, you just came out of something pretty scary.”

”I... but you aren’t dead. Anne of Cleves neither. What is this place, and... oh!” Cathrine was wearing short breeches, showing off every bit of leg she could, and it was scandalous. Kathrine covered her eyes with the blanket.

”It takes a bit to adjust,” Anne Boleyn said, and Kathrine heard her walk over and sit next to her, wrapping her in a loose embrace from the side. “The beheading takes a bit to get over, too.”

”The...” Kathrine threw the blanket to the ground and felt at her neck.

Her fingers came away red.

She ran out of the room, frantically searching for a looking glass.

An open door led her to a room with an odd tub and a sickeningly clean white... contraption.

And a looking glass on the wall.

Her neck had a slit, going all the way around and- 

The hands at the back of her neck came away just as red.

That was where the sword had cut her head off.

So why was she breathing, why was her head attached, whey was she here, what even _was_ this place?!

She flashed back to the block, the fresh hay on the ground, the executioner pressing the sword to her neck to aim. She felt the cold, sharp metal, and felt a rebellious tear escape.

He was leaning back now, readying for the strike.

She was standing on a stage, microphone in hand, singing about her romantic exploits, surrounded by five other girls. Aragon, Boleyn, Seymour, Cleves, and Parr.

People cheered.

The people sucked in their breath or jeered, and she knew it was coming.

She was in a recording studio, big headphones on, singing backup for Boleyn. She didn’t know how she knew the words, how she knew what headphones were, a recording studio.

She felt the blade slice the air.

And the bass booming out as she danced for a cheering crowd, microphone in hand, smiling and singing her heart out.

”Fifth wife.”

”The only thing you wanna do is..”

And she felt burning cold pain, sickening noise, wanted to cry out and scream and kick and fight and then the stage flashed before her eyes once more.

Her fingers were red, and so was her neck.

 


End file.
